Soul Marks
by Rellik 01011993
Summary: Every person is born with a soul mark on their wrist that matches the one on the wrist of their soul mate, infused with magic nothing can remove the mark. Marks removed by wounds come back over the top of scar tissue. Laurel comes across a bartender who has nothing left but a scar, his mark had been removed on purpose.
1. Chapter 1

Dean saw a woman approach Sam where he sat at his designated table at the back of the bar, doing his homework. He tossed an apologetic smile to the regular he had been about to serve before he walked over to Sam. The regulars knew about Sam; knew not to approach him and that Dean would disappear at a moment's notice if Sam needed him.

"Are you here by yourself?" the woman asked as she sat down across from Sam. The boy shook his head and went back to his school work. He didn't like to talk to strangers.

Dean crossed his arms, frowning at the woman. "No, he's not here alone. But I would like to know why you approached him…"

She turned to face Dean with a frown of her own. "I was making sure someone hadn't left him here. A boy his age shouldn't be sitting alone in a bar!" she hissed angrily at him. "If you're going to have a child you should at least be able to provide the proper environment."

Dean snorted. "I know I've had a long day, but I could have sworn I didn't look old enough to be Sammy's father." He smiled reassuringly at Sam before turning back to the woman. "He's in my line of sight while I work at the bar, and I check on him as often as I can. It's not ideal, I know, but it's surely better than him being home alone while I earn enough money to keep a roof over his head and food in his belly."

She was about to make a retort when Sam choked on his soft drink. Dean was beside the boy in the blink of an eye. When Sam got control of himself again his face was pale and he hadn't taken his eyes off the woman's wrist. "Dean…" he whispered.

Dean followed Sam's eyes and tensed for a moment before he shook his head slightly at the boy and stood back up. "I appreciate your concern for Sam, but he's ok here." He guided her away from the boy.

Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure he was ok…" Dean nodded with a polite smile. "Can I ask…if you're not his dad, why are you taking care of him?"

His eyes clouded over with anger for a moment, but she could see it wasn't at her. "I'm his brother. Our mum died when Sam was a baby, and our dad…well, he's not fit to raise Sammy."

"I'm sorry about that. I'm Laurel, by the way. If you ever need someone to watch him…"

Dean was shaking his head before she could finish. "We've got our patterns that work well for us. And if I could ever afford a sitter I'd take the opportunity in a heartbeat. But I don't think that's likely. Thank you for your concern."

x x x

Laurel came back the next night and watched Dean intently until he got a chance to serve her. As he had told her the night before, he kept a close eye on Sam, and even managed to go to him every now and then. But that wasn't the reason for this visit to the bar. She had a question about something else.

She was surprised when Dean was more closed off to her than the night before. "Laurel, checking up on me and Sam?" his eyes were guarded and she realised he thought she was trying to find a reason to have Sam taken away from him.

She shook her head quickly. "No, not at all. I do have a question for you though…" he raised an eyebrow to show he was listening. "When Sam choked on his soft drink last night…he seemed kind of startled by my wrist. Do you know why?"

Dean was about to shake his head in denial when he saw Sam out of the corner of his eye. When Dean had approached Laurel, the boy had snuck over. "You're soul mate symbol…" Sam whispered.

Dean could see panic rising in her eyes. "Is not the same as his, don't worry – you're not fated to a kid." Laurel waited impatiently as Dean scowled at Sam and asked him to go back to his homework. When Sam was sitting back at his table and working contently on his work, Dean finally looked back at Laurel. "I don't know how he remembers it. Sammy must have only just been two years old when it happened…" someone called his name and he glanced over his shoulder for a moment. "Look, I finish in half an hour, and this isn't something to be discussed in bits and pieces. Will you wait until I finish?"

When Laurel nodded she noticed his shoulders relax. "If you like, Sammy would be happy for the company…" he left the offer open, not waiting for an answer before he walked away to continue serving drinks.

When Laurel sat opposite Sam he glanced up at her. "Did he tell you?" he was almost bouncing in his seat with excitement.

Laurel shook her head. "No, he said he will tell me after he finishes work." Sam nodded approvingly and went back to the novel he was now reading. "Do you know what it is that he's going to tell me?" a slight nod. "Would you tell me about it?" a quick headshake and a stern look over the top of his pages.

"If Dean is going to tell you in twenty-five minutes, why would I tell you? Besides, he knows more than I do."

x x x

Dean appeared quite suddenly beside Laurel and she realised the customers were gone and the place was locked up. She had been so engrossed in Sam's story that she didn't notice any of it. "I hope you finished your homework before you started on that novel Sammy…" there was a teasing smile tugging at his lips and Laurel got the feeling that he knew for a fact that Sam had finished his work.

Sam nodded. "Of course I did! I finished my work, and even got ahead on some of it." The boy was practically bursting with pride when his older brother grinned at him.

"I know it's out of the usual, but I'm going to talk to Laurel before we head home, if that's ok with you Sammy." The boy nodded eagerly, picking his novel back up to show he was more than happy for that.

Dean lead Laurel to a table out of Sam's hearing and sat down opposite her. "Sam was shocked by your mark, because it is a match for the one I used to have." He started slowly, eyes glued firmly to the table.

Laurel frowned, not understanding. The marks didn't change. They were there from birth through to death, and they never changed. If someone was wounded so badly that the mark was unrecognisable, it would come back again on top of the scar tissue.

"I was six when I realised that it meant something, something important. Unfortunately, I didn't know exactly _what_. If I had known what they were, I would have known not to ask." He glanced across the bar to make sure Sam was still at his table. "I was anxious to know what it meant, so I asked dad as soon as he got home from a job."

He put his hands on top of the table, clenching and unclenching his fists. Laurel reached out slowly, and took his right hand in hers. When he didn't pull away from her touch, she flipped his hand over to see the inside of his wrist. The skin where his mark should have been was a large area of scar tissue. There was no mark.

Laurel trailed her finger tips over it in wonder. "I thought the mark came back on top of scar tissue…" she whispered.

Dean nodded. "It does. Unless someone cuts it off and then pours acid into the wound. The acid eats through the memory of the mark so it can't come back. He knew that when he did it."

Tears welled up in Laurel's eyes as she tore her gaze from his wrist and forced herself to meet his eyes. "Oh Dean, I am _so_ sorry." Someone tapped on the glass of the front door. Dean was standing before Laurel even realised what the noise was.

He opened the door and allowed Laurel's father to step through. "Laurel, what are you doing here so late?"

"Dad, this is Dean, he's my-"

"Maintenance guy." Dean stuck his hand out for her father to shake. "Nice to meet you sir, I've heard good things about you from the guys who drink here…"

Quentin nodded, glancing down at Dean's wrist. It was habit to check any young man, given that he had two grown daughters who were yet to meet their soul mates. "And I've heard that you keep the guys in check. You prevent a lot of work from coming our way, me and the guys appreciate that." He'd never seen someone without a mark, but he figured it would be rude to comment.

"I need to talk to Dean about a few more things dad; I'll see you for lunch tomorrow ok?" Laurel interrupted calmly.

x x x

"Why wouldn't you let me tell him who you are to me?" Laurel asked as soon as the door shut behind her father.

"I would be honoured to be your partner Laurel, but that would not be fair on you. You think the story about my mark is bad…that's the least of my baggage. And besides, your dad is a cop – what do you think he would do when he found out a guy with no mark is claiming to be your soul mate? I told you about it because you have a right to know, but you shouldn't be burdened with me and my past."

Laurel watched him closely for a moment, gauging whether or not he was telling her the truth. "Don't you have any photos of you from when you were a kid? From when you had the mark?"

Dean started to shake his head when Sam interrupted. "Uncle Bobby might have one. He had a camera one summer we stayed there…remember Dean?"

"I'll give Bobby a call and see what he says. But that's not going to change the other thing Laurel." She could see disappointment in his eyes. He would have loved to be in her life, but thought it better for her that he stay out of it.

"You can work through anything Dean, if you can find someone to talk about it with. You could talk to me if you like." Laurel offered quietly.

Dean shook his head quickly, his muscles tensing and she could see in his eyes how uncomfortable he was with the idea of talking about his past with her. "The things that follow me around…they're not things for you to know about."

"You could talk to her dad. He's a police man, he'd have things he doesn't tell people too." Sam piped up again.

Laurel smiled down at Sam with a smile; no matter how bad Dean thought he was he couldn't be too bad if he was doing such a good job raising Sam on his own. "Dean will figure that part out Sam. In the meantime, he and I are going to be friends." She kissed Dean on the cheek. "Dean, I will see you tomorrow after I finish work. Thank you for telling me."

x x x

"This better be damn important." A gruff voice answered the phone. The tone and words would put others off, but it filled Dean with a great sense of belonging. Bobby had been in the background of his whole life. Supporting and helping out wherever he could.

"Bobby, it's Dean…and I think it's reasonably important." He glanced down at Sam who was skipping along beside him in excitement. "Listen, I met a girl today."

"Good for you, what's it to do with me?" Bobby asked grumpily. He didn't like his favourite tv show to be interrupted.

"She's got the same mark that I had when I was a kid. Sammy thought you might have a photo of me from before…" he had learned long ago not to mention what his father had done to him. Bobby felt that he it was his fault, that he had failed Dean somehow, even though he wasn't even there when it happened and he was the one who took him to the hospital after.

Bobby's shoulders relaxed, a weight lifting that he hadn't realised he'd been carrying for so long. "Of course I do boy. I even know exactly where it is. I'll send it through to your phone shortly." He paused a moment, not entirely sure if he was about to overstep his bounds. The boys called him Uncle, but they all knew he was more of a father. Still, some things were not to be discussed, especially with Dean. "Is she good enough for you?"

"Bobby, we're friends, for now. Until we figure out if she wants to jump into a relationship with…well, me and my past." Dean grumbled. Emotional discussions were so not his thing.

Bobby flopped into his lounge. "So she believes you already, about your mark. So who is the photo for?" He knew Dean was more than capable of taking care of himself, but he was still overly protective of the young man. If Dean felt he was unworthy, which was most often the likely outcome, he would let others walk all over him without a word.

"For me, for when I tell her dad. When the local barman starts claiming soul mates with your lawyer daughter, despite having no mark, you're going to be suspicious." Dean answered calmly.

Bobby choked on his beer. "She's a lawyer, this girl of yours? Life's cruel huh?" he chuckled softly.

Dean rolled his eyes. Trust Bobby to tease him about this. "She's not a prosecutor Bobby, she works for a non-profit. She helps battered wives and homeless kids, that sort of stuff."

'Well, she's definitely worthy of you then. I know you don't want to talk about it anymore boy, so I'll leave you to it. I'll send the photo through soon." He paused for a second. "And Dean, if you need to talk, you call me – about anything you hear? If she needs to meet family, I _am_ your family."

In the past he had found Dean fighting for survival against some of the most horrific circumstances without ever having said a word about it. Whenever he thought it was necessary, Bobby reminded the young man that he had family, family that cared and would help no matter what.

Dean cleared his throat, he never had been able to grow comfortable with expressions of love. Unless they were directed toward Sammy, but that was different. "Thanks Bobby, that means a lot. I'll talk to you later, yeah?"

x x x

The next day, Quentin found Dean standing outside his office when he got to work. "Dean…what can I do for you?"

Dean waited until Quentin sat behind his desk before sitting himself. He looked worried. "First off, I want you to know that I'm not laying claim to anything, ok? I told Laurel last night and now I'm telling you, because I think you both have a right to know." He took a deep breath. "I had a soul mark when I was a kid. The same as Laurel's." he unlocked his phone and slid it across Quentin's desk, when the detective glanced down he saw a younger version of Dean, and his mark. The young man wasn't lying.

Quentin stared at the photo, shocked that the weariness and horrors that he saw in Dean's adult eyes had been there when he was a kid. "Your marks are the same, so why do you say you're not laying claim to anything?"

Dean grit his teeth for a moment before looking away from Quentin. "I've got baggage you wouldn't believe Quentin, and none of it has any business being anywhere near your daughter. That and I work in a bar."

Quentin stared at Dean for a minute, trying to figure him out. Dean and Sam had moved to town eight months ago. He didn't know any other young men who would be willing to take on full responsibility of a teenage sibling, let alone fight for it like he had heard Dean did. Since he started working in the bar he knew there were less police call outs to that area, and no issues with public drunkenness. He made coffee for the police doing their rounds, and had often helped them out with helpful information. For all intents and purposes Dean was more than an upstanding citizen. So this baggage he spoke of had to be considerable.

"Your baggage…is it anything that I can help you figure out?" he saw Dean tense slightly and realised why. "It will be just between you and I. Nothing you tell me will get back to Laurel, unless you ask me to. I won't try to convince you to act on the soul marks, but I will try to help you get perspective."

Dean blinked, and Quentin was learning that that was Dean's version of shock. "You _want_ me to marry Laurel? I come here and tell you I have baggage to the eyeballs and you _want_ me to go with your daughter? You lot are crazy!" he shook his head in wonder.

"You've already told Laurel about the mark? What did she say?" Quentin was curious. His daughter was one of the most understanding and accepting people he knew.

"I didn't have the photo then, I had to call Bobby to get it. She believed me, right off the bat. Just because Sam stared at her mark and I told her mine _was_ like that." He shook his head, still not able to understand it. "You really should talk to your daughters about trusting people too quickly."


	2. Chapter 2

When Laurel dropped by the bar after work business was slow so Dean could talk with her while he worked. She beamed at him as soon as he looked up at her. "I had lunch with my father today…" Dean quirked a brow; it was as close as he would come to asking her to continue. "You told him about your mark, and had a photo." She glanced over to where Sam usually sat but he wasn't there.

"He's sleeping over at a friend's place. The boy's dad is one of the policemen I know, he's working day shift this week so he'll be home tonight. Sammy will be safe there." When her eyes widened he realised that parents didn't normally require so much of a safety net.

He was called away to one of the patrons and by the time he got back to her he had made up his mind. "Even if we do just stay friends, we're marked; there are some things you ought to know about me and Sammy. If you can wait until I finish work, we can talk about a few things?"

He was shocked by her immediate agreement to the idea. She seemed to always be so easy going when it came to changing plans to talk to him. "Of course I can Dean. I've got no plans tonight, and I've got the weekend off from work – we can talk as long as we need to." Someone called his name and she smiled at him. "I'll go sit in Sam's booth until you finish work."

x x x

Once the last customer had left, with assurances he would catch a cab rather than walk home, Dean locked the door and flicked off the 'OPEN' sign. "Alright, Laurel." He turned to find her walking towards him.

"There's a little twenty-four hour coffee shop not too far from here…" she felt like Dean talked to her in the bar to remind her, as a statement of _this is what I am_. She didn't care that he was a barman, but he did. She needed to get him out of this environment to talk to him.

He shook his head slowly. "The things I have to tell you, they're not things I can have other people overhearing…" the worry and horrors in his eyes backed up his statement.

She worried her bottom lip as she considered her options. "Alright then, my place isn't too far from here either…"

He nodded slowly. "Ok, but you call your dad and tell him you're having me over to talk." She could see by the look in his eyes that he wouldn't tell her _why_ she had to call her father and let him know, but it was important to him that she did. She called her father as they walked to her apartment, and noticed Dean's shoulders relax ever so slightly when she did.

x x x

He was standing in the middle of her lounge room, looking around with curiosity, as she hung up her coat. "Do you want a cup of coffee? Or I think I might have beer…"

"Coffee would be great, thank you. I ah…I don't drink, just so you know." He had his back to her, but she could still hear the _anymore_ at the end of his sentence. Alcohol had been a problem for him at some point.

He followed her into the kitchen, watching intently as she grabbed bits and pieces out of different cupboards. She had the strange feeling that should she ask him to make coffee next time, he would know exactly where everything was.

As the kettle boiled she turned to him. "Milk or sugar?" a quick shake of the head. Straight black, just like her father and the other policemen drank theirs.

x x x

When they were sitting in the lounge, on opposite sides of the room because of Dean's choice of chair, Laurel wasn't sure where to start. "So…did you have an idea of where you wanted to start this conversation? Because I'm at a loss…"

Dean glanced up at her from his coffee cup before quickly looking back down and giving a slight nod. "I know where to start and what I want to tell you. But I need you to know that if you need to kick me out at any point; all you need to do is tell me, ok?"

He waited until she nodded her agreement before he continued. "My mother died when I was young…saving Sammy. Dad blamed us both, because I was meant to keep an eye on him, and mum shouldn't have had to get in the way. That's why he burned my mark off when I asked about it – because I stole his soul mate from him, he would remove mine from me." he was staring intently into his coffee cup. "Bobby came to visit for some other reason and took me to the hospital."

Laurel's face paled. "He did that to you and didn't even take you to a hospital? Some stranger had to take you?"

Dean shook his head. "Bobby's no blood relation, that's true enough, but he's more a father than John ever was." He paused for a second, considering whether he should add what he wanted to. "The only reason Bobby took me to the hospital was because my mark was involved. Otherwise I would have been fine to treat it myself."

Laurel took a shaky sip of tea in an attempt to hide the pain she felt for Dean. He had been a _child_ , and that monster had tried to remove his chance of ever being with his soul mate. Had cut his mark off and burnt him with acid. Dean watched her closely as the information sunk in, and he could see the second she realised what the last bit of information hinted at.

"You were a _child_ , why would you have been able to take care of such a wound yourself Dean?" he didn't answer, but continued to watch her. She was smart enough to put two and two together. He knew that if he let her connect the dots, she would absorb it better. Her face paled even further. "You'd done it before. Taken care of your own wounds."

He could see questions rising in her eyes and took a deep breath. This next bit had been worrying him. "My father's life isn't entirely…legal. Which means that until I was old enough to leave, _with_ Sam, neither was mine."

Laurel nodded calmly. That didn't bother her so much as what his father had done to him. "You were a minor, and fully dependent on your father for yours and your brother's safety – no court would convict you."

Dean grimaced. "They might if they heard about some of the things I had to do…" he glanced up at her. "And so might you."

She shook her head. "That's your business until you decide you _want_ to tell me about it. But I've seen the way you look after Sam, if his life depended on you doing things for your father, I have no doubt you would have done them. Nor do I blame you for that. You did what was necessary for you and Sam to survive. And you got out as soon as you were able."

He stared at her for a long time. There were things he never wanted to tell her, but if he didn't tell her and she found out later on…it would ruin any chance they had at even friendship. Laurel saw his concern and smiled. "I'll keep in mind that you did unspeakable things in order to keep your brother safe. I won't build you up on some impossible pedestal because I know you're just a man, a man who comes with a horrible past but fought his way out of that." She paused a moment before continuing. "And I do realise that some of the things you had to do to get out of that life were probably worse than anything your father ever made you do."

He nodded, unable to find words. He was in awe of this woman and her easy acceptance of him. He had expected to be kicked out of her apartment and her life long before this. But she just accepted each fact, with pain on his behalf, and moved on to the next. How had he ever gotten so lucky to have her as a soul mate?

"I realise you come with baggage, and that it's going to take time in this new life to realise the fact that you as your own person are a wonderful human being. But I also know that even without your baggage, you would hang back because you work in the bar. I don't care what you do for a job, Dean, as long as you're happy."

He blinked in shock; she could read him too well already. Hopefully it had something to do with being marked, and wasn't due to any slipping of skills on his part. "Whenever you are able or want to, I would like to go on a date, ok?"

x x x

Laurel woke to someone pounding on her door at 5am. When she checked the peephole she saw it was Dean, with Sam in tow. She opened the door and stepped aside to let them in. Dean looked worried and Sam looked flustered. Something had to be wrong for them to be so open in their worry.

"You're not working tomorrow, are you Laurel?" she shook her head, confused. "I need to leave Sammy here with you for the weekend, if that's ok?"

"Sam is always welcome, you know that Dean. But what's going on?" he was more tense than usual and seemed to be paying attention to everything.

He didn't answer for a moment, and she didn't think he was going to. "Our dad is coming to town. There's nothing here for him business-wise, so he's here for us. When he signed Sam over to me I made it clear that whatever town we lived in, he wasn't to so much as pass through. I can't have Sam around when he gets here to cause trouble…" he paused for a moment. "I doubt he'll come to you; he'll want to cause me problems. But if you get worried, call your dad – he knows what's going on."

Sam hugged Dean and the older brother leant down to whisper something in his ear. When he stood straight again Sam seemed calmer and just as aware of his surroundings as Dean was.

When Sam went into the lounge-room Dean stepped closer to Laurel, brushing a kiss against her lips. "I'm sorry for the drama so early in the morning, but I promise he won't get near you and Sam."

x x x

Quentin found an older man standing in the middle of the bar, looking carefully at the mess. "I'm assuming you're Bobby…"

The stranger nodded. "Nice to meet you, Quentin. I didn't get a chance to warn the boy that his daddy managed to hire a gang. He normally works with small teams, less people to rise up against him, see."

"He didn't even try to find Sam. I don't understand it. Dean said that if John had the choice, he would take Sam…"

Bobby shook his head sadly. "John will do whatever will hurt Dean the most. He thinks Sam is alone without Dean, doesn't realise those boys can be loved. So he takes Dean, makes Sam homeless. And in the meantime, he can torture Dean as he pleases."

Quentin paled. He couldn't understand how a man could do that to his own son. "So what do we do now Bobby?" Bobby raised a brow in question. "This is your world, you know how it works. All I want to do is get Dean back before he gets too injured, and keep Sam and Laurel safe. If we can manage to lock the bastard up as well, that would be great. But I've got my priorities right. I'll follow your lead."

Bobby nodded his head slowly, considering the options available. "There's only a number of places near here that John would take him…places that don't have neighbours too close." He cringed, remembering the last time John had been even close to this mad at Dean. It had taken the boy twelve months to heal fully. "And we need to get him back before too long…Dean has a bad habit of showing that man that he can't hurt him, so John just tries harder."

Quentin followed Bobby to his truck, more than happy to ride with the man; it would give him a chance to ask questions. Questions that he couldn't ask Dean.

"He seems…unwilling to have any kind of connection with Laurel. He wants to, that's clear, but he holds himself back. Before he'd even take her out he told her so many awful things about himself…" he left it hanging, if Bobby wanted to add information or insight, he would. But Quentin couldn't bring himself to straight out ask his questions, it felt too much like prying where he didn't belong.

Bobby nodded in agreement. "I'm aware of what's been going on here, despite the fact I haven't been here. Between the two boys I've been kept up to date. What you need to understand about Dean is that he doesn't think he's worthy, of anything. John was in his ear for so long, putting him down, that he can't believe anything else. He doesn't understand why Sam chose him over me, why I jump at the chance to help him, why you've been so accepting and supportive, or why Laurel accepted him into her life. He can't see what we see. When he looks in the mirror, he sees either a monster or a disappointment."

"If he can't see the good, there would be nothing there to counteract the bad that he's been forced to do…" Bobby nodded in agreement to Quentin's epiphany.

x x x

Bobby kicked in the front door of the falling down cottage and came face to face with a startling mess. There were four dead men lying scattered about the room, and Dean was lying in the middle of them. Bobby rushed over to him while Quentin kept watch.

Dean's eyes opened when he felt someone moving him. "Bobby, you need to call an ambulance."

Bobby nodded, scanning Dean's injuries and categorizing them. His wounds were surprisingly not too bad. "Given your aversion to hospitals, I can patch all this up at home if you like…"

Dean shook his head slightly. "It's not for me. John is going to need an ambulance…if he hasn't died already…"

Quentin watched on in shock. If it hadn't been for his injuries, Dean would have been half way home by now. To go from tortured captive to free man on his own…his skills had to be more extensive than Quinton had realised. The only thing that kept Dean tied to his job at the bar was his refusal to slip back to his old life. He didn't realise he would easily qualify for legal jobs requiring the same kind of skills.

"Alright boy, we'll get you out of here and then call the ambulance and the cops. I'm sure you're daddy has enough illegal things lying around here to get him locked up for a good long while." Bobby nodded decisively. Dean glanced over to Quentin, expecting him to protest at removing Dean before calling the police – he made no such protest.

"Alright Bobby. Just…go easy on the ribs and the shoulder, yeah?" Dean watched the rage boil up in Bobby's eyes. "Hey, he knows it's a weakness of mine, of course he's going to go right in on them. They've always been his first checkpoint in a beating Bobby, you know that." Dean chuckled as Bobby helped him to stand.

He was badly beaten and bleeding, had just killed four men and almost killed his own father yet was still able to joke around. Quentin hated to think what it would take to make Dean back down. What he had had to survive in the past to be able to laugh this situation off now. He couldn't bear the thought of the things that must have been done to the kid.

x x x

They were half way back to Laurel's place when Bobby called the police, Dean in the back seat categorizing his wounds. He didn't seem bothered that he had just beaten his father half to death, or that he had just been kidnapped and tortured by that same man.

x x x

Bobby, Laurel and Quentin were off to the side when Dean and Sam started chatting about the old days. When Quentin opened his mouth to ask a question, Bobby shook his head and spoke under his breath. "This is just for the boys. They debrief and relax together and then everything goes back to normal. Just watch."

"Hey Dean, do you remember that one drug dealer that dad had living with us for a while? To make sure we didn't run?" Sam smiled up at his brother, pride shining in his eyes.

Dean nodded. "The one who tried to beat you? Who ran away like a girl and didn't come back because I put him on his ass?" Dean chuckled. "Dad was furious when he came home to find his goon had run away from two _boys_."

"His _face_ when he realised you would kill him if he didn't leave us alone. That was priceless." Sam laughed.

Dean nodded in agreement. "I still can't believe how well you could stitch a wound from the first time you tried." He shook his head. "Better than most doctors I've been to."

Sam rolled his eyes. "That's because you go to illegal doctors. If you ever went to a real hospital you might actually have a good experience with a doctor you know?" Sam paused for a minute, staring at his brother, considering his chances of getting an answer to his next question. "Dean? What did dad do, when you told him to sign the papers?"

Laurel's eyes snapped over to Bobby in shock. "They haven't talked about this? They've been away from John for almost a year Bobby."

Bobby nodded calmly. "These debrief sessions are when both boys are most comfortable to ask and answer anything of each other. If Sam asked at any other point, Dean would have answered, but Sam was content holding off for a debrief."

Dean stared back at Sam for a moment, getting his words in order. "He laughed at first; he thought I was joking. Then when he realised I was serious…he, uh, he put a blade in my shoulder. When I took it out and…gave it back to him, he signed the papers. As I was about to leave he told me he'd hunt me down and cut my head off in front of you. So I went back in, and I convinced him that he would stay away from us or he'd regret it."

Sam nodded slowly. "We got almost twelve months out of whatever you told him. You did well… Can I… Can I ask what you threatened him with?"

Dean was quiet for a long time, intently stitching his own wounds. The others were sure he wasn't going to answer at all. When he spoke his voice was quiet and shaky. "I told him that I remembered every single thing he did to us, every thing he threatened us with. I told him that I would follow through on it all…"

x x x

Bobby took Sam out for ice-cream and a visit to the library to give Dean some time alone with Laurel and Quentin. There were things those three needed to discuss. Convincing Sam that Dean would still be there, that John would never take him again, took almost an hour. He was protective of his older brother in a way that broke Laurel's heart. Brothers should not have to be so protective of each other.

When the door closed behind Bobby, Dean started to pace. He was fidgety. Laurel and Quentin both realised he had been holding it in while Sam was around; still protecting the boy from the actions and consequences of his father.

"Dean? I know full well that your father is…well…there aren't words for how much I despise that man and what he's done to you and Sam. But if you don't talk to me about your life with him, it will always hang over your head. You'll always be worried that you'll say something wrong and I'll take off." Laurel sat beside him on the couch.

Dean closed his eyes, trying to push both the memories and the worry aside. Quentin saw his concern, and his uncertainty of where to go from there, and stepped forward. "Dean, Laurel is right. I had the same fears about her mother. When I finally sat down and told her about it, she accepted it as a part of me."


End file.
